Star Wars, The Cooper Chronicle's, Book 1: The Rise

Chapter 20: Destress call

Narrator: A commander in training! With the thwarting of Grievous's plans upon the Reshie moon, General Kenobi and Skywalker have been tasked with hunting him down. Still, with front lines thinning, Commander Cooper and his forces have been assigned back to their home sector, the young Jedi taking advantage of this low in fighting.

Barrage: Alright! From the top, lady and gentlemen!

Liz: Is this really necessary? We've been at this for an hour!

The Major yelled, furrowing her brow towards the captain while taking up a swordsmen's stance. Beside her stood Niner, wielding a similar wooden blade to her, its stance locked in perpetuity. Barrage, in contrast, twirled two batons around, mirroring the size of his knives, a grin crossing his lips as he spoke to the senior officer.

Barrage: Oh, come on Lizzy, getting tired already? I thought you'd want more chances to whack the kid into shape?

Jerome: Well, to be fair, she hasn't had much luck with that so far.

The young man mused, picking up two training blades as he walked between the three, taking up his Jar'Kai dueling stance. Sweat dripped from his forehead, soaking the torn cloth from Reach's conflict wrapped just above his eyes. Liz meanwhile scoffed at the jab, gripping her weapon tightly as Niner shifted to even the space between the three 'attackers' of the young force user.

Niner: Statistically, you are correct, sir. However, her flailing led to your 'death' in three of the seven failed combat tests.

Jerome: Yeah, but I've still won six.

He said, turning his head towards his silent astromech, the droid sitting beside a scoreboard. Gesturing towards his mechanical friend, R4 released a soft whistle before a loud beep began the fourteenth round.

Instantly springing into action, Niner leaped into the fray, slashing down upon Jerome, who countered with one blade, knocking the attack against Liz's as she swung. Their swords let loose a loud crack upon impact as Jerome spun around, dodging and parrying each subsequent assault from the duo, the air filling with meaty blows as Jerome's eyes darted from movement to movement, limbs in constant motion. Suddenly, Jerome jerked back as rushing air tickled his neck. Awkwardly planting his foot down, the commander spun, parrying a second jabbing baton aimed at his gut, eyes darting towards the third entering the fray.

Barrage: Shit!

The clone swore, bouncing back on his heels, narrowly avoiding a counterattack from Jerome, who quickly ducked under a swipe from Liz, followed by another parry against the commando droid's attack. Movements became more rapid, strikes more frequent as the three assaulted from every angle, forcing the Jedi into reactions alone. Block, counter, parry, counter, block. Blade strikes flowed like water from the young man's motions, tracking each opponent as patterns slowly formed, Liz, Niner, Barrage, Niner, Barrage, then Liz again, each attacking in order. Bringing himself into a back step again, Jerome dodged Liz's slow slash, parried Niner's jab before spinning on his axis as Barrage lunged, overextending himself. The move cost the clone as Jerome struck, outstretching his hand to catch the man's arm, and used the instinctual jerk to pull himself in and deliver a solid strike upon his chest.

Jerome: Watch your openings, captain.

The young man said before ducking as Liz attacked quicker than before, Barrage falling back 'dead' as his inexperienced comrade swung in a wide arc, swiftly ending with her feet being swept from under her as Jerome danced around. Yet the masterful display of grace did not go unimpeded with Niner reentering the fray. A flurry of slashes bore down upon the young Jedi. Blocking or deflecting each in rapid succession, a loud symphony rang through the hangar, backdropping the monotone voice of the commando.